Quidditch. A dangerous, violent, bloody sport full of brutality and madness.
The above adjectives all come from a professor who wished to remain anonymous.
It had been popular in the wizarding world for nearly a thousand years and was so far the only broomstick sport beloved by almost all wizards worldwide.
At Hogwarts, Quidditch matches were the most popular and the only sporting event in the entire school. Apart from Quidditch, these young wizards could basically only play wizard's chess in their dormitories, which was about the only activity that could be considered a sport.
Hmm, woefully inadequate.
Gripping his broomstick while standing in the players' changing room, Harry wasn't in a very good mood.
He could only keep taking deep breaths to ease the tension that threatened to overwhelm him.
Perhaps noticing Harry's nervous state, the Weasley twins flanked him on either side, placing their hands on his shoulders.
They had heard Wood quietly pulling Harry aside earlier, telling him he must catch the Golden Snitch as quickly as possible today.
"Don't listen to Wood's words. He loves pressuring team members."
"Yeah! When we first joined the team, that training maniac made us train for an entire week! That whole week we dreamed of him scolding us!" As he spoke, Fred put on a serious face, imitating Wood. "Fred! You can't even catch such a slow ball? You handle that bat even worse than a troll!"
After their performance, the twins burst into laughter, completely ignoring Wood's dark expression nearby.
"Thanks, I'm fine."
Looking gratefully at the Weasley twins, who had encouraged him, Harry turned his head again and focused on the field.
He really loved Quidditch, but today's match was different from before.
Apart from the fact that he still often dreamed of that frozen lake and the noseless monster in a hood whose wand emitted green light, another variable made him feel vaguely uneasy.
Their investigation target, Severus Snape, was standing on the referee's platform with obvious irritation, holding a piece of parchment that seemed to contain Quidditch rules.
Yes, this dangerous-looking person who didn't seem to understand Quidditch much was the referee for today's match.
Harry didn't understand why Snape, whose face showed such impatience, would referee this match.
Was he targeting him?
But he had seen clearly that Dumbledore was sitting in the nearby spectator stands and had even smiled at him earlier.
Or was it precisely because Dumbledore was sitting there that his expression had become like this?
Feeling like he had figured everything out, Harry's face showed a relieved expression. If that was the case, then his safety today should be guaranteed.
Just then, commentator Lee Jordan called out the names of the participating players from both sides.
Taking a deep breath, Harry gripped his broomstick and walked toward the field, standing in a line with his teammates on the grass.
Their opponents hadn't come out yet, so during this time, he could freely observe the surrounding spectators.
His gaze swept across the spectator stands. Professor Dumbledore was looking at him with a smile, and though Professor McGonagall's face was stern, her eyes held anticipation.
Unfortunately, Professor Kahn seemed to have something going on these past few days and wasn't at school.
The Gryffindor students all looked excited, though those with less pleasant expressions were all staring at Snape. The Hufflepuff students looked similar but slightly more restrained than Gryffindor.
The Ravenclaw students didn't look particularly excited, since this match didn't involve anyone from their house. And as for Slytherin, Malfoy...
Hmm?
Suddenly, Harry was stunned to discover that Malfoy, who had been making eye contact with him from nearby, suddenly curled his lips disdainfully, then gripped a book and started studying!
Had this person gone mad?
Speaking of which, it seemed like he really hadn't seen Malfoy with his two cronies bullying classmates around for several days. Had he changed his ways?
A studious Malfoy... what kind of joke was this!
Shaking his head vigorously, Harry didn't look at the scene that had shattered his worldview and instead focused all his attention on the match.
Soon, the Hufflepuff team members also emerged from the changing room. Standing in a line, both sides looked toward Snape standing in the middle.
He was still wearing that black robe that looked like bat wings and hadn't changed into referee attire.
For a Quidditch referee, this behavior was inappropriate.
Referees needed to fly around the field with the players, constantly watching for rule violations.
Such wide robes would affect flying speed and sometimes block vision. How would he be able to see the rapidly changing situation on the field and catch players' violations?
Harry very much doubted Snape's professionalism, and the rule sheet he had just put away further confirmed his suspicions.
This would be a very difficult match. If the referee favored the other side without understanding the rules, it would be extremely disadvantageous for them.
Shaking his head and pushing all negative emotions to the bottom of his heart, Harry made eye contact with the Hufflepuff Seeker across from him.
The next second, Snape blew the silver whistle in his mouth.
Fifteen broomsticks simultaneously took to the air, and the match officially began.
Lee Jordan's loud voice exploded in Harry's ears, making them ring. Shaking his head and gaining altitude, Harry focused on searching the field for that extremely fast golden ball.
He really should end today's match as quickly as possible, because Snape hated Gryffindor and would definitely cause them trouble in this match.
Even with Dumbledore present, he wouldn't show any restraint.
And the facts proved he was right. Just tens of seconds into the match, Snape unreasonably awarded Hufflepuff a penalty.
With complaints and anxiety in his heart, Harry gained more altitude, bringing the entire field and surrounding grounds, even the school gate in the distance, into his field of vision.
In such conditions, the already small Snitch might become almost invisible, but Harry believed his eyesight could catch that glint of sunlight reflected off the golden ball.
But just then, Harry's peripheral vision seemed to catch a black shadow flashing past the school gate.
That shadow moved extremely fast, so fast that he couldn't even make out its specific appearance.
An illusion?
Sitting on his broomstick, Harry rubbed his eyes, and after finding the shadow had disappeared, he shook his head and returned his attention to the field, searching for that golden glint that might appear at any moment.
"Wearing that cloak as a referee, hmph, he's like a real bat!" Sitting in the nearby spectator stands, Ron gripped his wand vigilantly while looking at Snape and complained.
Hermione beside him wasn't looking up at the field but was flipping through the thick, gold-rimmed book in her hands.
This book covered far too many dark creatures, and she wasn't sure what Snape wanted to look at.
She had also read the pages about three-headed dogs, but they only said that wild three-headed dogs had no weaknesses. Their skin could resist many spells, and their incredible speed could bite through any wizard's throat before they could react.
If that was really the case, then they didn't actually need to worry too much about Snape getting that Philosopher's Stone.
But Hermione always felt there were some clues she hadn't found.
What could they be...
[Chapter Complete]
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